The Jolly Spiffing Adventures of Chibi England
by LetsEatPancakes
Summary: England didn't WANT his mother to get him a tutor. Nor did he want his tutor to be FRENCH. Atleast tormenting the frog would be fun. Rated T for Chibi England's colourful vocabulary. NOT FrUK! This is also my vain attempt to write a comedy fic. RIP self-esteem and dignity.


-Starting a new fan-fiction even though I'm in the middle of another. *evil snicker* This time it's about good old chibi-England, hope you like this one-

It had to be a Frenchy, didn't it? Out of all the people that Arthur's mother could have chosen to teach him in the ways of being a nation, _it had to be the personification of France_. Mama Britannia _knew_ that England hated the France, yet she went ahead and made 'Monsouir Bonnefoy' his tutor any way.  
Meeting him face to face was just as bad as Arthur had imagined.  
"Arty, dear, say hello to Francis." Mama Britannia smiled encouragingly and patted Arthur on the back. He frowned and said,  
"_Hello_." the hatred in his voice was annoyingly obvious. How a child of (physically) seven could hold so much malice for a French person was scarily impressive.  
"Bonjour, there, little one." the frog smiled and leant down so that he was at eye-level with the smaller nation. "It's very nice to meet you."  
Arthur wasn't impressed by his accent. He wasn't impressed by his, surprisinglu femine, clothes. The only thing he was surprised with was his looks.  
His hair length was accurate to what he'd imagined - in fact at the moment it was tied back with a purple ribbon - but in his mind he'd imagined him with greasy black hair. He'd also thought that he'd stink of garlic and be wearing lots of black and white. But no.  
His hair was a pale blonde and his wavy locks fell down in front of his face in the places where the ribbon had failed to serve its job. His eyes were very bright and curious, he looked extremely excited.  
"I wish I could say the same for you." Arthur sighed and crossed his arms.  
Mama Britannia hit him gently on the back of the head at this point,  
"Arthur - don't be rude. That's not the way we behave towards new friends is it?" she hissed fervently.  
"Why're you wearin' a dress?" Scott, ever the questioner, appeared suddenly from behind his mother and placed his hands on his hips in mock disgust.  
Francis laughed slightly. (He had a _really_ weird laugh.) "It is a tunic, non?" he informed Scott with a slightly bite in his words, "They are the height of fashion over in my country. I believe they make you look like a flower petal dancing through the wind!"  
Scott raised an disbelieving eyebrow at the teenager and shrugged, "Okay, if you say so Frenchy." Scott marched off whilst mouthing, 'Gay.' to England as he passed.  
Arthur snickered a bit before his mother explained,  
"I think you and Francis should go out and have a little talk - won't that be fun?"  
"No." Arthur grunted.  
Francis seemed unphased by every insult England threw at him and just kept smiling. He was creepy.  
"Yes it does." Mama Britannia snarled through closed teeth and kicked the door open with her heel.  
Arthur sighed and reluctantly sauntered out of the house, Francis followed swiftly. Before he left the house however, Mama Britannia grabbed the back of his tunic and hissed like a viper into his ear,  
"Anything happens to my son and you're mince meat, got that Bonnefoy?"  
Francis panicked for a second, flailing around like a fish out of water in her grasp, before he composed himself and smiled cooly,  
"Relax - I'll be sure no harm comes to the petit lapin."  
"...That's French isn't it?"  
"Yes. Yes it is."

"So what do you like doing?" Francis asked, throwing a smooth red pebble into the glassy, green surface of the lake. Arthur threw his rock, making sure that it went further than the frog's using his budding skills of telepathy.  
"Fencing's fun. I enjoy archery too. But best of all I like talking to the little people - and practising my incantations." he replied, smiling with satisfaction as his rock broke the surface of the water atleast three metres away from Francis'.  
"Little people?" Francis asked, resting his chin in his hands and staring at the small child beside him.  
"Yes, little people - or do you call them what Niamh calls them? Niamh calls them daoine beag. That's Irish for it apparently." Arthur said, but his answer still left Francis with no clues on what he was talking about.  
"Excusez-moi, I'm not sure what you mean, petit lapin...?" Francis laughed nerviously. He put his hand down onto the floor and picked up another pebble. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface before throwing it into the depths of the lake.  
"Firstly, don't call me petit lapin. I'm not a rabbit - I may spend time with a rabbit, but I'm _not_ a rabbit. Secondly, I really think you frogs must be clueless."  
"Oh merci," Francis replied sarcastically. "But why do you think that?"  
"Little people! It's unlucky to call them by their actual name, but if I must explain, they're you call 'fée'. Under stand?" Arthur picked up another pebble and threw it into the water with as much strength as he could muster. "Well, I wouldn't expect you to despite my explanation."  
"Oh! You mean _fairies_, you should have said." Francis laughed and carefully tucked a lock of wavy blond hair behind his ear. "That's cute - you still believe in magic."  
Arthur looked at him with a glance of malice then and raised a finger to his lips,  
"You shouldn't say their proper name. It's unlucky - besides, it's _faerie_ not _fairy_ - Oh damnation, I said it." Arthur blew a strand of straw coloured hair out of his face. "Also, I don't _believe_ in them. Because you can't believe in something that's real."  
Francis raised his eyebrows in disbelief and stuck his bottom lip.  
"Oh, petit lapin, hasn't any one told you yet?" Francis put his finger under Arthur's chin and tilted his head up, "Magic isn't real."  
Arthur held in a shocked gasp and disgusted insult at the same time, so it kind of came out as "Haaastard!". Well - mistakes will happen.  
"Oh, non! Petit lapin, you should not be using that sort of language, it's bad!" Francis exclaimed in horror, putting a shocked hand over his mouth.  
"Bloody hell."

-Well, it looks like I'm about to give Iggy hell, doesn't it?-


End file.
